The last day of February finally brought the first magical snowfall of the season. Beautiful, fluffy snow everywhere. (And then rained on top of the snow. But let’s ignore the rain and focus on the snow.)

My kids got a half day thanks to the heavily falling snow and they spent a happy afternoon building forts, snowmen, throwing snowballs at each other, and drinking Hot Cocoa.

So today may be March 1st, but my mind is still on winter and snow.

Snow-Flakes
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Out of the bosom of the Air,

Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,

Over the woodlands brown and bare,

Over the harvest-fields forsaken,

Silent, and soft, and slow

Descends the snow.

Even as our cloudy fancies take

Suddenly shape in some divine expression,

Even as the troubled heart doth make

In the white countenance confession,

The troubled sky reveals

The grief it feels.

This is the poem of the air

Slowly in silent syllables recorded;

This is the secret of despair,

Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,

Now whispered and revealed

To wood and field.

The hypnotic quality of the lines “Silent, and soft, and slow/ Descends the snow” when you read this poem aloud gives me the shivers.

My goodness, this is so beautiful. Before I read your last lines I had copied those same ones to comment that they are my favorites. But I love the cadence of them, too, they slow one down, like snow falling. How brilliant is that! Thanks for this-we just had a little wisp of snow this afternoon, still winter here in Colorado.